0*3 

H24 


if 


/ 


of  a 


EVOLUTION 

qf~a 

GIRL'S  IDEAL 


ittle  record  of 
the  ripening  ofthe 
affections  to  the 
timeof  Loves  com- 
ing. 

6y  Clara  E.Laughlin 


way  of/i/&is  wonc/er/ul, 
Itisbv  abandonment" 


CHICAGO-NEW  YORK-TORONTO 

Fleming  H'ReveU  Company 

LONDON-EDINBURGH 
IQO2. 


Copyright  1902,  by 
Charles  Scribner's  Son* 

Copyright  1901,  by 
Fleming  H.  Rerell  Company 

August 


a  dtrl's 


"The  way  of  life  is  wonder- 
ful; it  is  by  abandonment. " 


SOMETIME,  somewhere, 
long  ago,  that  sentence 
caught  my  uncomprehend- 
ing eye  and  fastened  its  literal 
outlines,  but  not  its  spiritual 
significance,  on  my  recollection. 
At  a  later  day,  when  I  could 
not  remember  when  or  where 
I  had  read  it,  or  from  whose 
pen  it  came  or  by  what  con- 
text it  was  surrounded,  it 
flashed  into  the  forefront  of 
my  consciousness,  with  a  haunt- 


A 

striking 

sentence 


Ube  Evolution  of  a  Girl'5  focal 


We  live 
to  Itarn 


ing  power  and  illuminating 
suggestiveness.  "The  way  of 
life  is  wonderful;  it  is  by 
abandonment."  I  began  to  wish 
for  commentaries  on  my  text, 
to  think  that  if  we  could  know 
at  what  point  and  by  what 
process  any  soul  came  to  this 
realization,  we  should  know  the 
most  profoundly  interesting 
thing  that  soul  could  tell  us. 
We  begin  by  believing  that 
the  way  of  life  is  by  acquisi- 
tion, by  what  the  world  reckons 
progress.  We  live  to  learn 
that  it  is  by  abandonment,  by 
the  ability  to  do  without  rather 
than  by  the  capability  to  gain, 


Ube  Evolution  of  a  (BW's  local 


by  the  growing  away  from 
ideals  rather  than  by  fulfil- 
ment of  them,  and  this  not 
necessarily  by  a  ruthless  de- 
cree, but  most  often  by  a 
specially  benignant  one. 

I  wish  biography,  even  auto- 
biography, were  more  explicit 
on  this  point.  And  so  wish- 
ing, so  thinking,  I  began  to 
put  down  the  poor,  bare, 
utterly  commonplace  little  out- 
lines I  knew  "best  of  all,"  as 
Mrs.  Burnett  says;  and  look- 
ing backward  as  best  I  could, 
my  recollection  flew,  straight 
as  a  magnetic  needle  to  the 

north,     to    the    time    when     I 

13 


How  to 
give  up 


TTbe  Evolution  of  a  (Sirl's  Uoeal 


First 
fprebod 
ings 


used,  as  a  little  girl,  to  look 
forward  with  a  chill  agony  of 
foreboding  to  the  inevitable 
days  when  I  should  be  "too 
big"  to  play  with  dolls.  I  felt 
sure  that  when  such  a  time 
came  to  me  I  should  want  to 
die;  life  would  hold  no  further 
incentives  to  go  on  living. 
I  really  suffered  in  this  antici- 
pation, imagining  that  some 
day,  in  the  full  flush  of  my 
passionate  love  for  my  dolls, 
someone  would  come  to  me 
and  make  me  put  my  treas- 
ures away  from  me  forever, 
and  my  heart  would  surely 

break    in    one    great    ache    of 
14 


Evolution  of  a  <3W's  local 


agony.  But  I  can't  even 
remember  how  or  when  I 
stopped  playing  with  dolls. 
My  interest  in  them,  my  pas- 
sion for  them,  their  power  to 
absorb  and  satisfy  me,  faded 
so  gradually,  so  gently,  into 
other  interests,  other  passions, 
that  there  was  no  wrench  in 
the  transition;  it  was  evolu- 
tion, and  as  quiet  as  the 
growth  of  grass,  the  unfolding 
of  buds,  as  the  creeping  by 
of  time. 

I  never  "gave  up"  my  dolls; 
they  keep  their  place  in  "the 
part  of  me"  that  belongs  to 

doll     days;    it    is    part    of    me 

15 


Touching 
my  dolls 


Ube  Evolution  of  a  etrl's  foeal 


"Inch  by 
inch."    ' 


yet,  for  we  do  not  grow  away 
from  our  beginnings,  nor  from 
any  of  our  successive  stages 
of  growth;  we  simply  keep 
adding,  inch  by  inch,  to  our 
mental  and  spiritual  as  well 
as  to  our  physical  stature,  but 
we  never  grow  away  from  any 
part  of  it — we  can  only  "add 
on."  I  "added  on"  to  my  doll 
days  the  inevitable  next  stage 
of  schoolgirl  friendships;  only, 
instead  of  adding  as  bricks 
are  added  to  bricks,  separate 
entity  to  separate  entity,  with 
necessity  of  mortar  to  hold 
them  together,  I  added,  by  the 
blessing  of  Providence,  I  sup- 

16 


Ube  Evolution  ot  a  Girl's  Uoeal 


pose,  as  color  is  added  to 
color  in  the  marvellous  blend 
of  the  rainbow,  or  as  theme 
is  added  to  theme  in  the 
softest,  smoothest  harmony. 

It  used  to  seem  to  me  that 
if  there  ever  came  a  time 
when  I  could  not  see  daily, 
or  thrice-daily,  those  school- 
chums  who  so  thoroughly  sup- 
planted dolls  in  my  affections, 
that  life  would  be  stark,  intol- 
erable. But  I  never  see  them 
now,  of  course;  I  can  hardly 
even  remember  their  names. 
Nor  do  I  remember  that,  with 
one  or  two  exceptions  when 

some      girl-chum      was     taken 

17 


The  blend 
of  the 
rainbow 


ttbe  Evolution  of  a  Girl's  local 


/  learn, 
that  a  bird 
in  the 
hand 


Is  not 

always 
better 
than  two 
in  the 
bush  of 
prospect 


ruthlessly  from  me  by  removal 
from  the  neighborhood  or  city, 
I  suffered  much  as  these 
interests  gradually  gave  place 
to  others. 

And  so  it  has  been  all 
along,  with  my  passions  and 
my  pleasures.  Always  I  have 
thought  that  no  kind  of  hap- 
piness could  ever  be  possible 
for  me  except  the  present 
kind;  and  always,  without  jar 
or  hurt,  somehow,  there  has 
come  another  and  better  kind 
to  supersede  it.  And  thinking 
along  this  line,  I  fell  into 
retrospection  on  the  evolving 
of  my  ideal  of  love. 

18 


'Cfoe  Evolution  of  a  Girl's  floeal 


I  had  a  few  "affairs  of  the 
heart"  before  I  was  ten,  but 
they  were  very  slight.  I  recol- 
lect that  once  I  actually  went 
to  house-keeping  with  a  boy, 
in  a  large  empty  packing-case 
in  his  back  yard;  but  unless 
my  memory  plays  me  false, 
I  was  very  much  more  in 
love  with  the  packing-case 
than  with  the  boy,  and  merely 
accepted  him  because  he  "came 
with  it,"  so  I  don't  count  that  a 
real  love-affair.  None  of  my  fan- 
cies were  very  real,  as  I  say, 
until  I  was  ten.  Then  I  loved  a 
boy  who  sat  next  to  me  in  the 

little  private   school  I  went  to. 

19 


The  love 
of  the 
packing- 
case 


Ube  Evolution  ot  a  Girl's  ffceal 


A  firs t 
"affair' 


He  was  a  nice,  quiet  boy, 
several  classes  above  me  in 
"learning,"  and  a  little  supe- 
rior, I'm  afraid,  in  his  manner 
toward  me.  But  that  didn't 
matter;  I  adored  him,  humbly, 
and  rather  liked  the  quiet 
splendidness  of  his  superiority. 
I  tried  very  hard  to  be  worthy 
of  him,  because  I  meant  to 
marry  him  when  I  was  grown 
up — say  at  fourteen  or  sixteen. 
I  recollect  that  in  writing  he 
always  made  the  letter  after 
p  like  this —  <^- ,  whereas  the 
copy-books  and  the  teacher 
insisted  that  it  should  be 
made  like  this —  ^f ;  but  although 


Evolution  of  a  Girl's  loeal 


I  had  always,  previously,  made 
both  my  p's  and  q's  according 
to  authority,  I  began,  for 
love's  sake,  to  make  them  the 
way  the  boy  did,  and  I  have 
made  my  q's  thus  ever  since. 
The  boy  was  good  enough 
to  walk  in  the  park  with  me, 
sometimes.  The  park  was 
across  the  street  from  the 
little  school,  and  we  were 
sent  thither  at  recess.  I 
planned  (secretly;  I  never  told 
the  boy)  to  buy  the  park 
when  we  were  married  (it  is 
a  very  large  park),  and  build 
a  high  stone  wall  all  around 
it.  We  should  live  in  a  very 


21 


p's  and 
q's 


Evolution  ot  a  Ofrl's  floeal 


I  plan  an 
"estate' 


fine  house  in  the  exact  mid- 
dle of  the  park,  and  spend  a 
great  deal  of  our  time  riding 
in  the  "swan-boats"  on  the 
lake.  On  Sundays  we  would 
allow  the  public  to  file  respect- 
fully through  our  grounds, 
attended  by  our  troop  of 
mounted  park  police  who 
would  see  that  the  said  public 
deflected  not  from  the  narrow 
path  of  meekness  and  straight- 
forwardness, and  would,  above 
all,  exercise  over  said  public 
a  rigorous  restraint  from 
"touching  anything."  The  boy 
and  I  would  rise  early  in  the 
morning,  and  ourselves  attend 


Evolution  ot  a  Girl's  I  Deal 


to  the  ecstatic  duty  of  feeding 
the  wild  animals  in  the  Zoo; 
and  with  our  own  hands  we 
would  pick  flowers  by  the 
bushel — just  for  the  joy  of 
rioting  in  what,  now,  we  durst 
not  touch.  In  every  way 
would  we  enjoy  complete  free- 
dom from  all  the  restrictions 
of  the  present — and,  oh!  the 
joy  of  those  swan-boats! 

I  entertained  this  particular 
dream  of  happiness  for  about 
two  years,  during  which  time 
it  somehow  became  borne  in 
upon  me  that  the  park  was 
not  for  sale.  I  do  not  seem 
to  have  suffered  in  giving  up 


The 

emanci- 
pation 
from 
"DcnT 


When 
genius 
died 


Ube  Evolution  ot  a  (Birrs  Uoeal 


Authors 
•who 
pointed 
tht  way 


this  heavenly  prospect,  how- 
ever. No,  not  even  though, 
as  I  can  now  see,  at  that 
time  genius  died  in  me. 

Andrew  Lang  says  children 
are  all  geniuses  until  by  edu- 
cation the  practical  is  made 
to  outweigh  the  imaginative 
and  fancy  is  put  in  curb  by 
probability.  Somewhere  be- 
tween the  age  of  ten  and  the 
age  of  twelve  it  dawned  on  me 
that  in  all  probability  I  should 
never  own  the  park.  Then,  I 
say,  the  genius  in  me  died, 
but  I  cannot  remember  that 
it  gave  me  any  pain.  I  read 

a    great    deal    in    those    days, 
24 


ZTbe  Evolution  of  a  Girl's  IDeal 


chiefly  the  immortal  works  of 
Bertha  M.  Clay  and  May 
Agnes  Fleming.  I  lived  in  an 
atmosphere  of  princes,  duch- 
esses, and  noble  lords,  of 
"estates"  and  "town  houses" 
and  "Mediterranean  villas,"  of 
"tiaras"  and  "the  sheen  of 
silks"  and  "the  odor  of  rare 
exotics."  Poor  and  lovely  maid- 
ens never  purchased  public 
parks,  I  came  to  learn,  though 
they  frequently  became  duch- 
esses and  went  to  live  on 
"broad,  ancestral  acres,"  in 
"stately,  turreted  halls." 

I     would    be     a    duchess,     I 

decided.    There    was    a    boy   I 

25 


To  a  new 
kind  of 
vision 


Ube  Evolution  ot  a  Girl's  UDeal 


One  way 
to  a 

coronet 


knew  whose  father  was  cousin 
to  an  English  lord,  and  I 
decided  that  this  boy  (who 
was  the  youngest  of  three 
sons,  and  removed  by  about 
twenty  lusty  prior  claimants 
from  the  lord's  successorship) 
was  he  by  whom  I  should 
rise.  I  believed  (perhaps  gen- 
ius did  not  die  in  me  all  at 
one  gasp)  that  this  boy  would, 
by  a  truly  miraculous  succes- 
sion of  casualties  almost  as 
sweeping  as  a  second  great 
flood,  become  a  lord,  pres- 
ently, in  his  father's  cousin's 
stead,  and  that  I,  ergo,  would 
be— a  duchess!  No,  I  knew 

26 


Ube  Evolution  of  a  <5lrl's  local 


that  to  be  a  duchess  one 
must  have  a  duke  for  hus- 
band, but  perhaps,  I  argued 
hopefully,  there  was  a  duke 
somewhere  to  whom  this  lord 
was  heir;  perhaps  by  more 
casualties  still  we  might  come 
to  wear  the  famed  strawberry- 
leaved  coronet  of  my  favorite 
heroines.  But  in  any  event,  a 
lord  was  not  so  bad,  and  I 
pinned  my  faith  sturdily  to 
this  imminent  rise  in  the 
world. 

My  mind  had  begun  to 
dwell  on  attire  by  that  time — 
thanks,  no  doubt,  to  the 

detailed   and   unrestrained   mil- 

27 


But  a 

remorse- 
less one 


Ube  Evolution  of  a  Girl's  loeal 


Gingham 
dreams  of 
plush 


linery  descriptions  of  the 
Misses  Clay  and  Fleming.  I 
"thought  out"  the  gowns  I 
should  wear  in  my  new  estate, 
and  I  remember  that  my  reg- 
ulation costumes  were  of  white 
satin,  thick  white  satin,  em- 
broidered in  a  blaze  of  gems, 
and  further  embellished  by 
an  enormously  long  "court 
train"  of  plush!  Sometimes 
the  train  was  to  be  of  sap- 
phire plush,  and  then  the 
embroidery  of  the  gown  proper 
was  of  sapphires,  and  some- 
times rubies  or  emeralds  were 
used  in  similar  harmonies  of 
quiet  taste  and  elegance.  For 

23 


ttbe  Evolution  of  a  Ctrt'0  floeal 


really  "swell"  occasions  the 
embroidery  was  done  in  dia- 
monds, and  the  train  was  of 
white  plush — always  there  was 
plush,  a  now  unheard-of  fabric, 
which  then  represented  stupen- 
dous elegance  at  five  dollars 
a  yard. 

These  dainty  toilettes  I  wore, 
in  my  prospect,  on  all  polite 
occasions.  In  the  free  and 
easy  atmosphere  of  my  own 
castle  at  breakfast-time,  I 
wore  a  trailing  (all  my  dream- 
gowns  trailed  yards/]  confection 
of  pale  pink  satin,  with  "bil- 
lowy cascades"  of  lace.  "Bil- 
lowy cascades  of  lace"  was  a 

29 


Embroid- 

fP  °J  s 
diamonds 


Evolution  of  a  Girl's  local 


The 
flaxen 


favorite  term  in  my  novels, 
and  suffered  not  at  all  in  my 
mind  from  the  natural  lack  of 
harmony  between  billows  and 
cascades. 

But  one  day  I  walked  to 
school  with  a  girl — a  lovely, 
pink-cheeked,  blue-eyed,  flaxen- 
haired,  doll-featured  girl,  two 
years  older  than  I — who  got 
mad  at  me,  sad  to  relate, 
and  by  way  of  offensive  (or 
was  it  defensive  ?)  warfare, 
asked  me  how  it  felt  to  be 
as  ugly  as  I  was. 

I  had  never  thought  much 
about  my  looks — nothing,  in 

fact,  except  to  regret   that   my 

30 


Ube  Evolution  of  a  em's  local 

hair    was    not    yellow  and   my 

eyes  blue;   in   my  favorite  nov- 

els  all   the  lovely  heroines  had 

"hair    like     spun     gold,"     and 
.  "eyes   like   purple   violets,"  and 

All 
heroines 
are  blond 

the   mean   women  who  worked 

all   the   mischief    were    invaria- 

bly brunette.     I    was    sorry   to 

be    brunette,    but     I     did     not 

mean   to  let   it  divert   me   into 

a  career  of  villainy.     I   aspired 

to    be    a    heroine,    and    some- 

how, vaguely,  trustingly,  I    had 

an    undefined    hope    that    per- 

haps  my  hair  would  turn   gold 

some   day,   and    my  eyes   grow 

violet-blue. 

31 

TEbe  Evolution  ot  a  Oirl's  local 


I  try  to 

supple- 
ment 
nature 


CHAPTER   II 

The  thrust  of  the  Flaxen 
Girl  was  almost  mortal.  After 
a  miserable  day  at  school,  I 
hurried  home  and  sat  me 
down  before  my  mirror  for  a 
minute  recapitulation.  The  re- 
sult came  near  being  tragedy. 
I  recollect  that  one  item  of 
the  result  was  that  in  my 
zeal  to  overcome  Fortune's 
niggardly  treatment  of  me  in 
the  matter  of  beauty,  I  dis- 
carded mere  soap  in  favor  of 
one  of  the  gritty  scouring 
compounds  for  face-washing 

purposes,      with     consequences 
32 


ZTbe  Evolution  ot  a  Girl's  loeal 


that  were  hard  to  bear  till 
the  skin  grew  on  again.  I 
invested  in  a  famous  com- 
plexion cream  then,  and  raised 
a  miraculously  heavy  crop  of 
pimples;  I  went  without  the 
necessaries  of  school-girl  life 
to  buy  a  tooth-powder  that 
"no  lady  should  be  without," 
and  I  regularly  "helped  out" 
my  eyebrows  with  the  burnt 
end  of  a  match.  A  girl  told  ( 
me  that  arsenic  was  good  for 
the  complexion,  but  somehow 
I  mistrusted  it;  also  the  advice 
of  another  girl  who  said  bel- 
ladonna would  "make  your 
eyes  bigger."  If  these  sugges- 

33 


With 
discour- 


results 


Evolution  ot  a  <3W0  loeal 


Losing 
faith  in 

"beauti- 
ficrs" 


tions  had  come  to  me  earlier, 
I  would  in  all  probability  have 
tried  them,  but  by  the  time 
they  were  offered  me  my  faith 
in  the  reconstructive  powers 
of  cosmetics  had  grown  faint, 
and  I  had  fallen  back  into  a 
sort  of  happy  notion  that 
when  I  was  bigger  I  should 
be .  better-looking,  and  that, 
anyway,  fine  feathers  had  a 
deal  to  do  with  helping  on 
the  appearance  of  a  bird — or 
a  duchess ! 

I  cannot  remember  that  I 
ever  contemplated  for  more 
than  a  passing  moment  at 
most,  any  of  the  phases  of 

34 


Evolution  of  a  Girl's  local 


being  a  duchess  except  the 
millinery  phase.  It  was  the 
phase  in  all  my  favorite  liter- 
ature which  most  interested 
and  absorbed  me.  Not  to  tell 
what  "she"  had  on,  to  the 
minutest  detail,  was  to  fall 
fatally  short  of  the  high  call- 
ing of  a  real  novelist;  but  all 
my  novelists  did  tell,  in  each 
chapter,  and  so  my  mind  was 
very  clear  as  to  the  habits — 
or  habiliments — of  duchesses. 
All  this  time  the  duke  was 
very  hazy  in  my  mind.  He 
existed  chiefly  as  a  means  to 
an  end,  although  I  always 
rather  liked  the  idea  of  his 

35 


The  high 
calling 
of  a  nov- 
elist 


The 
"dukt' 


Evolution  of  a  Girl's  UDeal 


being  on  hand  to  admire  me 
(as  of  course  he  would !)  in 
all  my  splendor.  Poor  little 
me!  I'm  afraid  I  hadn't  got 
so  very  far  away  from  the 
"packing-case"  order  of  affec- 
tion, even  yet. 

Before  I  was  fifteen  the  last 
hope  of  being  a  duchess  had 
faded  from  me;  I  could  no 
longer  wrestle  with  the  im- 
probability of  it.  But  its  going 
cost  me  no  pang;  it  slipped 
from  me,  like  my  passion  for 
swan-boats,  while  I  was  una- 
ware; it  was  not  ejected,  but 
supplanted.  I  had  "graduated" 

without    an  intermediary    step, 
36 


ttbe  Evolution  of  a  Gfrrs  loeal 


and  without  at  all  feeling  the 
tremendous  chasm  bridged, 
from  "Dora  Thorne"  to  "Van- 
ity Fair,"  from  "Wee  Wine" 
to  "Dombey  and  Son"  and 
"David  Copperfield,"  from 
"Tempest  and  Sunshine"  to 
"Jane  Eyre";  and,  strangely 
enough,  with  the  transition 
from  most  romantic  trash  to 
realistic  fiction,  it  was  either 
in  that  transition  or  coincident 
with  it  that  some  notion  of 
romantic  love  first  began  to 
filter  into  my  consciousness. 
Moreover,  I  began  to  see 
some  experiences  of  it.  The 
older  sisters  of  girls  I  knew 

37 


A  change 
in  au- 
thors 


And  a 
change 
in  ideals 


Evolution  of  a  <3trl's  loeal 


got  engaged,  and  married. 
They  were  ecstatically  happy; 
they  had  pretty  new  clothes 
(always  the  millinery  factor!); 
they  were  married  in  a  big 
church,  to  organ  music,  and 
preceded  to  the  altar  by  trains 
of  bridesmaids.  Afterward  they 
went  to  live  in  a  lovely  little 
house  or  flat  with  everything 
in  it  new  and  "bridey,"  and 
there  they  had  cosey  parties 
at  which  they  exhibited  all 
their  fine  possessions  to  admir- 
ing and  envious  friends.  And 
by  and  by  they  had  a  baby. 
Oh,  delight  of  delights — a  baby ! 

And     they    were     very,    very, 
38 


ttbe  Evolution  of  a  Girl's  foeal 


very  happy  —  of  course!  Who 
wouldn't  be,  with  a  new  home 
and  pretty  "things,"  and  a 
baby — and  a  husband  ? 
.  I  liked  "the  looks"  of  this 
kind  of  happiness.  It  was 
better  than  being  a  duchess 
in  one  important  respect,  at 
any  rate.  To  be  a  duchess 
one  had,  presumably,  to  live 
in  Europe,  and  there  none 
of  one's  relatives  and  old-time 
friends  would  be  by  to  look 
and  envy.  And  who  cares  to 
dazzle  mere  strangers,  if  they 
are  titled  ?  Perhaps  I  had, 
too,  by  that  time,  a  suspicion 
that  happiness  does  not  always 

39 


Better 
than 
being  a 
due  ness 


Happi- 
ness and 
the  peer- 
age 


Ube  Evolution  of  a  Oirl's  floeal 


go  in  direct  ratio  with  ascend- 
ing scales  in  the  peerage. 
Perhaps,  oh,  well !  I  don't 
know  what  the  reason  may 
have  been,  but  I  relinquished 
my  dream  of  marble  halls 
and  plush  court-trains  without 
a  pang  and  came  blissfully  to 
a  new  ideal,  based  on  a 
"nice,"  good  young  man,  of 
undeniably  brilliant  prospects, 
of  course;  a  church  wedding, 
with  a  particularly  voluminous 
veil;  a  pretty  house,  with  a 
parlor  equipped  with  gilt  chairs; 
and  a  baby — ultimately,  several 
babies !  I  had  marked  my 

man,   too. 
40 


Ube  Evolution  ot  a  Girl's  Uoeal 


Of  course,  the  state  of  being 
grown  up  and  married  and 
possessed  of  gilt  parlor  chairs 
and  tea-gowns  with  trains  to 
.'em,  and  bonnets  with  strings, 
absorbed  me  more,  even  yet, 
than  the  man.  It  was  still,  in 
a  way,  of  the  packing-case 
order,  but  not  altogether. 
There  was  only  one  boy  who 
had  a  packing-case  in  his 
yard,  and  to  become  mistress 
of  the  packing-case  one  must 
accept,  perforce,  the  boy  who 
went  with  it.  But  though  there 
were  many  young  men  of  my 
acquaintance  who  were  equally 

likely    to     provide    gilt    chairs 

41 


I  mark 
my  man 


From 

among 

several 


Evolution  or  a  Girl's  Ifoeal 


And  pi  an 
an  early 
marriage 


and  the  necessary  factor  for  a 
church  wedding,  there  was  only 
one  I  ever  considered  for  the 
purpose. 

I  was  nearly  sixteen  then, 
and  looked  forward  to  my 
wedding  as  not  very  far  off. 
"He"  was  a  tall,  bronzed,  ath- 
letic collegian — a  rare  scholar, 
a  great  favorite,  a  knightly 
soul.  I  thought  we  should  be 
married  immediately  after  his 
graduation;  I  was  looking  for- 
ward to  my  own  graduation 
just  about  the  same  time, 
only  mine  was  to  be  from 
the  high  school  and  his  was 

to    be    from    the    professional 
42 


tlbe  Evolution  of  a  Girl's  Uoeal 


school  of  his  college.  He 
was  very  learned,  and  that  he 
would  be  able  to  enter  at 
once  into  a  lucrative  practice 
.of  his  profession  I  did  not  for 
a  moment  doubt.  I  remember 
how  I  planned  to  make  him 
happy;  I  had  actually  got  as 
far  as  that !  I  remember  that 
he  liked  chocolate  cake,  and 
that  I  resolved  NEVER  to  let 
the  supply  of  fresh,  delicious 
chocolate  cake  run  low  in  our 
house.  I  planned,  too,  to  help 
him  in  his  scholarly  pursuits. 
I  had  bookish  tastes,  myself, 
and  was  noted  in  school  for 
writing  excellent  "composi- 

43 


Chocolate 
cake  as  a 
mark  of 
progress 


Evolution  of  a  em's  floeal 


My  nu- 
merous 
family 


tions,"  so  I  had  no  doubt 
that  we  should  enjoy  a  very 
companionable  existence.  More- 
over, I  planned  to  become  a 
writer — a  very,  very  celebrated 
and  much-revered  writer,  of 
course,  and  our  home  would 
be  a  rallying-place  for  all  the 
literary  notabilities  of  the  day. 
I  decided  that  we  would 
have  seven  children,  to  be 
called,  respectively,  Philip, 
David,  Helen,  Beatrice,  Jack, 
Elizabeth,  and  Lily.  These 
little  cherubs,  I  thought,  would 
"play"  all  day  with  their  "col- 
ored nurse,"  while  I  sat  in  the 
library,  radiant  in  a  pale-gray 

44 


Ube  Evolution  of  a  (Birrs  local 


morning  gown  and  a  huge 
bunch  of  violets,  and  wrote 
great  novels,  stopping  now 
and  then  to  assist  my  husband 
turn  a  particularly  elegant 
phrase,  or  mayhap  going  occa- 
sionally to  the  kitchen  to  see 
if  the  supply  of  chocolate 
cake  was  up  to  standard. 

The  more  I  contemplated  this 
well-planned  future  the  more 
ecstatically  certain  I  felt  of  its 
complete  fulfilment.  I  almost 
swelled  with  pride  when  I 
foresaw  how  my  husband's 
relatives  would  adore  me,  how 
I  should  be  admired  and  wor- 
shipped by  the  community  as 

45 


A  well- 
planned 
Juture 


Ube  Evolution  of  a  Girl's  local 


Enter,  a 
shade  of 
doubt 


an  "unspoiled"  celebrity,  and 
how,  wherever  I  went,  people 
would  turn  to  look  after  me 
and  say,  "There  she  goes. 
Isn't  she  lovely?" 

I  meant  to  be  very,  very 
lovely — irreproachable  in  man- 
ner and  in  modes,  in  inner 
purity  and  outer  complexion— 
in  character  and  in  costume 
complete.  And,  of  course,  my 
husband  would  be  no  less  per- 
fect. Being  so  perfect  severally 
and  so  happy  mutually,  what 
in  all  the  world  could  happen 
to  vex  us,  to  give  us  occasion 
for  unlovely  attributes?  Yet  I 

knew,    in    a    vague    way,   even 
46 


TTbc  Evolution  of  a  Girl'0  floeal 


then,  that  people  do  not  live 
and  die  without  sorrow.  I  had 
read  a  really  great  deal  of 
good  literature,  and  fool  of 
hope  though  I  was,  I  knew 
that  the  world  was  full  of 
sadness,  and  that  it  would  be 
odd  if  I  were  marked  for 
complete  immunity.  This  mis- 
giving took  a  firm  hold  on 
me,  I  remember,  and  would  not 
be  put  aside.  So,  after  think- 
ing over  all  the  calamities 
that  could  possibly  befall  "him 
and  me,"  I  came  to  the  con- 
clusion that  one  of  our  chil- 
dren would  die.  I  hated  the 
thought,  for  I  was  a  maternal 

47 


Which 
will  not 
be  put 
aside 


Evolution  of  a  Girl's  loeal 


Facing 
the  reck- 
oning 


little  thing  from  my  babyhood, 
and  I  loved  my  "dream  chil- 
dren," even  from  afar  off.  But 
it  seemed  as  if  Sorrow  came 
and  sat  down  before  me,  and 
said,  "I  am  inescapable;  sooner 
or  later  you  have  got  to 
reckon  with  me  and  pay  the 
reckoning;  everyone  has  to. 
Now,  what  shall  it  be?"  And 
because  I  could  not  get  the 
gaunt,  gray  creature  out  of 
my  house  of  dreams,  I  made 
with  her  the  best  bargain  that 
I  could,  I  delayed  my  day  of 
payment  to  the  last  moment  I 
dared;  I  decided  that  when 

she   was   about    five   years   old, 

48 


TTbe  Evolution  ot  a  Girl's  focal 


Lily  would  die.  This  put  the 
evil  hour  off  for  a  number  of 
years,  and  somehow,  after  I 
had  made  this  compromise 
with  my  too  optimistic  self,  I 
felt  more  certain  than  ever 
that  all  the  rest  would  come 
true.  So  early  do  we  clutch 
at  the  queer  notion  that,  hav- 
ing paid  tribute  to  Fate,  having 
bent  our  necks  in  submissive 
recognition  of  her  power,  she 
should  hold  no  further  tyranny 
over  us,  but  be  a  gracious 
conqueror. 


49 


And 
parting 
with  Lt 


ly 


tTbe  Evolution  or  a  Girl's  loeal 


My  ived- 
ding  post- . 
ponea 


CHAPTER  III 

When  "he"  graduated  he 
went  to  Europe  to  study  for 
two  years,  and  our  wedding 
was  necessarily  postponed  - 
which  was  just  as  well,  for 
my  family  would  doubtless 
have  considered  me  "ower 
young  to  marry  yet,"  and  he, 
poor  man,  had  had  no  inti- 
mation of  what  was  expected 
of  him,  at  all. 

If  he  had  stayed  at  home 
during  those  two  years  I 
might  have  found  it  difficult 

to      maintain      my      house     of 

50 


Ube  Evolution  of  a  (BM'0  focal 


dreams  in  the  face  of  his 
complete  ignorance  of  my 
intentions,  his  apparent  indif- 
ference to  my  existence  on 
.the  face  of  the  earth.  But  he 
was  so  far  away  he  was  easy 
to  "manipulate,"  and  though  I 
"grew  up"  very  considerably  in 
those  two  years,  this  dream 
had  been  so  long  with  me, 
had  entered  so  thoroughly  into 
every  root  and  fibre  of  my 
dream  life,  that  it  began  to 
seem  impossible  that  so  com- 
plete, so  stoutly  woven  a  fabric 
should  have  no  thread  of  fact 
in  it.  Almost,  with  my  sober 

senses    of    eighteen     years,     I 

51 


But  the 

dream 

remains 


Sobtr 
senses  of 
eighteen 


Evolution  of  a  Girl's  local 


believed    in    this    as    my    ulti- 
mate  destiny. 

I  shall  never  forget  my 
excitement  when  I  knew  he 
was  coming  home,  my  terrible 
anxiety  about  my  dress  for 
that  season,  so  that  he  make 
no  mistake  about  my  "grown- 
upness"  and  fitness  for  matri- 
mony and  gilt  chairs.  I  had 
a  really  long-trained  dress  for 
the  first  time  in  my  life,  trains 
being  then  in  fashion  for  street 
wear;  I  had  a  hat  which  fairly 
screamed  maturity  at  the  pass- 
er-by. And  I  trembled  with 
nervous  ecstasy  as  I  planned 

the      delicious,     the      dramatic 
52 


Evolution  of  a  Otrl'g  floeal 


moment  of  our  meeting  and 
his  recognition  of  the  fact  that 
I  was  grown  up.  Of  course, 
he  couldn't  regard  me  seri- 
ously as  a  probable  wife  when 
he  went  away.  He  had  two 
years  to  study  before  he  could 
marry,  and  in  any  event,  who 
could  entertain  any  notion  of 
matrimony  in  connection  with 
a  sixteen-year  old  miss,  with 
skirts  reaching  only  to  her 
ankles  ?  When  he  saw  my 
train,  I  reflected,  proudly, 
there  would  be  no  mistake ! 

Woe  is  me !  how  well  I 
remember,  as  'twere  yester- 
night, the  warm,  sweet,  starlit 

53 


Skirt- 
lengths 
and  mat- 
rimony 


"W  re- 
turns 


Evolution  ot  a  Girl's  local 


summer  evening  when  I  crept 
home  in  my  trained  gown  and 
mature  hat,  and  sat  in  a 
little,  huddled  heap  on  our 
porch,  and  would  not,  could 
not  speak  when  spoken  to  by 
my  mother.  Poor,  wee  bit 
lassie !  I  was  a  stricken  thing 
that  night.  I  had  received 
what  seemed  a  mortal  blow, 
nor  could  I  tell  just  where 
the  wound  was.  Only  I  knew 
that  the  foundations  of  my 
house  of  dreams  were  crum- 
bling, and  that  nothing  could 
save  them,  nor  the  super- 
structure. I  was  widowed  and 
deprived  of  seven  children,  all 

54 


TTbe  Evolution  of  a  Girl's  loeal 


in  one  stroke  of  calamity; 
indeed,  so  completely  was  my 
outlook  swept  clear  of  things 
to  hope  for,  to  live  for,  that 
though  I  laugh  now  at  the 
plight  of  that  night,  it  is 
through  tears,  for  the  memory 
of  that  feeling  of  awful,  awful 
desolation,  is  with  me  still;  I 
can  feel,  even  yet,  the  rain 
of  hot,  hot  tears  that  poured 
down  my  face,  the  utter,  utter 
desolateness  with  which  I  sat 
in  the  midst  of  tender  kindred 
and  abundance  of  the  good 
things  of  life,  and  wept  over 
the  ruin  of  my  hopes,  the 
grave  of  my  girlish  dreams. 

55 


The  fall 
of  my 
house  of 
dreams 


Desola- 
'mid 
tion. 
abun- 
dance 


Ube  Evolution  of  a  Girl's  local 


The 

angel 
with  the 
flaming 
sword 


A  pleasant  look  of  recogni- 
tion, a  hearty  hand-shake,  a 
word  of  greeting — and  absorp- 
tion in  the  next  comer!  This 
was  what  broke  away  all  the 
props  of  my  dream-fabric. 
Another  girl,  perhaps,  would 
not  have  given  up  so  easily; 
another  would  have  put  by 
idle  dreams  for  a  while  and 
tried  to  exercise  active  charms 
over  the  obdurate.  I  could 
not;  I  could  only  give  up,  and 
suffer,  for  the  first  time  in  my 
life,  the  angel  with  the  flam- 
ing sword  to  take  his  stand 
before  the  barred  gates  of  my 

Paradise. 
56 


TTbe  Evolution  of  a  (Sirl's  foeal 


CHAPTER  IV 

After  this  point  I  am  afraid 
I  cannot  write  a  very  coher- 
ent memory  of  the  evolution 
of  my  girlish  ideal.  All  the 
rest,  up  to  date,  is  so  fresh 
to  me  that  I  have  no  per- 
spective on  it,  even  though 
some  of  it  dates  back  through 
a  good  many  years. 

I  know  that  in  the  very 
early  years  of  my  evolving 
ideal  I  passed  from  one  dream 
of  happiness  into  another  with- 
out waking,  as  'twere  —  one 
dream  just  merging  into 
another  in  an  unbroken  con- 

57 


After 
many 
years 


Hbe  Evolution  ot  a  <3irt'0  local 


WMle 

Sorrow 

respected 

me 


tinuity  of  blissful  expectations. 
But  what  time  I,  even  in  my 
childish  ignorance,  looked  up 
from  my  bright  beads  of  fancy- 
weaving,  and  recognized  Sor- 
row as  a  factor  in  human  life, 
she  claimed  me  for  her  sub- 
ject on  the  strength  of  that 
recognition,  and  would  thence- 
forth for  no  reason  let  me 
go.  While  I  believed  in  the 
power  of  my  desire  to  create 
its  own  fulfilment,  Sorrow 
respected  me  as  immune, 
divinely  immune,  but  when  I 
recognized  her  as  an  enemy 
to  my  dreams  and  tried  to 

make    compromise     with     her, 
58 


Evolution  of  a  <3irFs  foeal 


then  I  lost  my  shield  against 
her,  and  ever  since  I  have 
grappled  with  her  in  conflict, 
trying  to  save  this  treasure, 
.that  hope,  from  her  merci- 
lessly exhaustive  reckoning. 

But  ever  since  I  wrestled 
with  her  for  the  immunity  of 
my  household  of  seven  chil- 
dren and  all  the  accompani- 
ments thereof,  trying  to  hold 
her  at  bay  for  years  by  the 
offer  of  Lily  as  a  sacrifice, 
and  she  exulted  to  show  her 
victory  over  me  by  taking  not 
Lily  alone,  but  all  the  seven, 
and  "him,"  and  all  that  I  had 
in  my  house  of  dreams,  I 

59 


Losing 
my  shield 


Ube  Evolution  of  a  (Sirl's  foeal 


Sorrow 
takes 


But  pays 

good 

exchange 


have  had  to  contest  my  right 
to  every  hope,  every  fancy, 
every  aspiration;  and  as  I 
recount,  in  memory,  these  con- 
tests, it  seems  to  me  as  if  I 
had  almost  never  won,  as  if 
always  I  had  given  up,  until 
one  would  think  there  must 
be  nothing  left  for  me  to  cher- 
ish, to  hope;  yet  I  am  richer, 
immeasurably,  to-day  than  ever 
in  the  day  of  my  fullest  dreams, 
for  never  has  been  wrested 
from  me  one  dear  anticipa- 
tion, one  loved  ideal,  but  to  me 
has  come  in  its  stead  either 
a  better  joy  or  a  richer  sense 

of  the   joys    remaining. 
60 


Evolution  of  a  Girl's  ffceal 


CHAPTER   V 

I  cannot  measure  the  suc- 
cessive steps  of  my  ideal's 
evolution  after  the  collapse  of 
the  dream  last  described — I  can 
only  measure  what  joy  now 
means  to  me  by  what,  one  time, 
I  thought  it  could  only  be. 

I  know  that  once  I  swore  I 
would  love  only  a  big  man, 
"a  mightye  man  of  valor,"  like 
Guy  of  Warwick,  one  strong 
to  defend  and  sturdy  to  lean 
upon,  and  now  I  love  only  the 
weakest  of  men,  the  frailest, 
the  neediest  of  care  and  devo- 
tion and  love's  patience.  I 

61 


Hbe  Evolution  ot  a  otri'a  local 


My  Bene 
dick 


Wears 
y 


know  that  the  knight  of  my 
childish  dreams  was  attired 
like  a  combination  of  circus 
rider  and  Shakespearian  Bene- 
dick, in  pale-blue  silk  doublet 
and  hose,  and  cloak  of  pale- 
blue  velvet,  with  a  blue- 
feathered  cap  on  his  golden 
curls  and  a  deliciously  clanking 
sword  by  his  side — and  that 
my  knight  to-day  is  not  even 
"well-groomed,"  just  a  most 
wraith-like,  stooping  figure,  in 
the  most  ill-fitting  of  baggy 
clothes;  sartorially,  he  might  al- 
most be  taken  at  some  distance 
for  one  of  the  gaunt  things 

farmers    erect    to   scare    crows. 
62 


TTbc  Evolution  ot  a  Girl's  loeal 


Later,  when  my  mind  had 
got  away  from  the  physical 
and  on  to  the  mental  and 
spiritual  equipment  of  my 
ideal,  I  remember  that  I 
stipulated  with  myself  that  "he" 
should  be  of  a  joy-loving 
temperament,  kin  to  mine — and 
lo !  he  is  a  son  of  the 
Puritans,  mistrusting  gladness, 
always,  as  ominous;  and  fear- 
ful of  happiness  lest  it  stand 
for  the  absence  of  sensitive- 
ness, the  arrest  of  develop- 
ment. I  hoped  that  he  would 
be  a  gallant  man,  a  cavalier,  if 
not  a  chevalier;  I  had  a  beau- 
tiful theory  that  Love  was, 

63 


Evolution  ot  a  Girl's  focal 


Alas,  my 

poor 

"knight"' 


Twang 
ing 
heart- 
chords 


very  properly,  dependent  on 
the  sweet  and  gracious  little 
expressions  which,  all  told,  go 
to  make  up  chivalry.  Alas, 
my  poor  "knight" !  He  has  a 
fatality  for  doing  the  wrong 
thing.  Instead  of  making  my 
heart  flutter  hourly  with  some 
exquisite  courtesy,  he  twangs 
the  poor,  taut  chords  thereof, 
hourly,  in  sharp  discord,  and 
hourly  I  have  to  summon  all 
my  love  to  forgive  him.  I 
used  to  dream  that  my  knight 
would  bring  me  flowers — vio- 
lets, and  now  and  then  a  great 
red  rose  or  a  handful  of  hya- 
cinths— but  he  has  never  given 
64 


Evolution  of  a  <$irt'8 


me  so  much  as  a  pansy  "for 
thoughts,"  or  a  four-leaved 
clover  to  put  between  the 
pages  of  my  book  "for  luck." 
I  used  to  hope  that  he 
would  come  for  me  in  a  fine 
coach,  with  prancing,  dashing 
horses,  and  take  me  to  festivi- 
ties, all  in  a  flutter  of  excite- 
ment, but  when  he  comes  he 
gets  wearily  off  a  jangling 
cable  car,  and  instead  of 
whisking  me  off  to  ball  or 
theatre,  he  puts  his  head  down 
on  my  shoulder  and  says,  "I 
am  so  tired."  I  used  to  think 
in  all  my  moments  of  anguish, 

that   some    day   I    should   have 

65 


"So 
tired" 


ttbe  Evolution  of  a  Girl's  focal 


Taking 
account 
of  sac- 
rifice 


a  broad  bosom  to  creep  to 
and  there  weep  out  all  my 
heart's  bitterness,  but  it  is 
never  so  with  me;  if  I  am 
sad,  he  is  always  sadder  and 
must  needs  be  comforted. 

As  I  have  given  up  one 
cherished  hope  after  another, 
with  regard  to  my  ideal,  I 
have  tried  to  ask  myself  each 
time,  since  consciousness  came 
upon  me  with  that  first  sur- 
render to  Sorrow,  whether  this 
sacrifice  were  not  the  last  sus- 
taining prop  of  my  house  of 
dreams,  whether  I  was  not  a 
fool  of  fools  to  try  longer  to 
dwell  in  so  tottering  a  fabric. 

66 


ttbe  Evolution  of  a  Girl's  foeal 


Face  to  face  have  I  wrestled 
with  the  conviction  that  at 
some  certain  point  sacrifice 
becomes  mere  weakness  to 
resist  rather  than  strength  to 
overcome,  and  strenuously  have 
I  striven  with  myself  that  I 
feed  not  the  flame  on  my 
altar  of  love  with  some  sacri- 
fice that  instead  of  replenishing 
my  fire  would  quench  it.  I 
know  that  one  can  pay  too 
dear  for  anything,  even  for 
love,  and  I  have  tried  not  to 
let  myself  be  willing  to  pay 
the  price  that  maketh  poor 
and  impoverisheth.  I  know, 

too,   that    love    of   the    highest 

67 


Tke  price 
that  im- 
P<ruer- 
isiuth 


Evolution  of  a  Girl's  Hoea! 


What 
things 
are  worth 
'while 


type  must  demand  as  well  as 
give — must  demand,  oftentimes, 
where  it  would  be  far,  far 
easier  to  give  —  and  I  have 
tried  to  be  steadfast  to  certain 
lines  of  insistence,  have  tried 
not  to  falter  in  holding  my 
ideals  always  high  and  higher, 
and  not  to  forget  them  or 
make  compromise  with  their 
enemies,  even  though,  for 
love's  sake,  I  had  hourly  to 
overlook  some  insufficient  ful- 
filment of  them,  some  violence 
to  their  tenets.  I  have  held 
to  the  belief  that  some  things 
are  "worth  while"  from  the 
great,  ultimate  point  of  view 

68 


Ube  Evolution  of  a  Otrl's  local 


and  others  are  not,  and  I 
have  tried,  as  best  I  could 
see,  and  weigh,  and  judge, 
to  choose  —  God  knows!  — the 
things  that  are. 

I  have  weighed  in  one  bal- 
ance, my  knight,  your  frail 
health,  and  in  the  other  bal- 
ance I  have  tried  to  put  what 
I  know  of  my  own  patience 
and  tenderness  and  physical 
sufficiency;  I  have  tried  to 
balance  all  your  shortcomings 
of  my  ideal  with  all  my  pow- 
ers to  overlook  and  bear  them; 
I  have  tried  to  scrutinize 
myself,  to  know  if  I  seem  to 

be    the    woman    who    can     do 

69 


Weighed 
in  the 
balance 


Ube  Evolution  of  a  Girl's  Hoeal 


"Se 

praying" 


most  for  you,  be  most  to  you, 
ay,  and  I  have  tried  to  see 
if  the  points  of  disparity 
between  us  be  such  as,  in 
their  compromise  or  adjust- 
ment, shall  be  good  for  you 
and  me,  individually  and 
jointly,  or  such  as  in  all  wis- 
dom should  warn  us  apart. 
And  so  trying,  so  praying,  in 
utter  desire  to  know  the  right 
for  us  both,  and  to  do  it,  I 
have  dumped  into  one  balance 
all  the  things  wherein  love  as 
you  bring  it  to  me  differs 
from  love  as  I  yearned  after 
it,  and  into  the  other  balance 
I  have  put  all  that  you  are 
70 


Evolution  ot  a  Girl's  local 


to  me  that  I  cannot  analyze, 
or  describe,  or  dispense  with ! 
And  it  has  far,  far  outweighted 
all  the  rest. 

And  my  house  of  dreams 
to-day?  It  hasn't  a  detail,  in 
my  mind,  of  location,  or  size, 
or  trappings,  so  only  you  are 
in  it !  And  Sorrow  is  in  it,  I 
know;  not  "after  many  years," 
either,  but  from  the  first,  even 
as  a  household  saint.  And  if 
there  is  a  parlor  it  shall  be 
furnished  with  Forbearance,  for 
there  we  shall  see  the  "polite" 
world,  which,  whether  one  be 
glad  or  sad,  is  so  alien  that 

if  it  be  accepted  at   all   it   can 

71 


A  new 
house  of 
dreams 


Evolution  of  a  $irl's  Ifceal 


"Fur- 
nished 
•with 
Cheer" 


only  be  with  forbearance.  And 
the  dining-room  shall  be  fur- 
nished with  Cheer,  for  there 
we  shall  gather,  now  and  then, 
the  chosen  few  we  really  love, 
and  set  before  them  our  best 
refreshment  of  body  and  spirit, 
that  they  may  fare  forward 
the  stronger  therefor.  And  if 
there  is  a  little  "den,"  it  shall 
be  "done"  in  Congeniality,  for 
it  will  be  mine  and  yours, 
your  pipes  and  my  embroidery 
lying  down  together  in  peace 
and  harmony,  like  the  lion  and 
the  lamb  in  the  Apocalypse. 
And  there  shall  be  a  large, 

upper  chamber,  with  "windows 
72 


Evolution  ot  a  atrl's  local 


opening  toward  Jerusalem," 
and  it  shall  be  made  beauti- 
ful with  Love,  for  there,  when 
all  things  and  all  men  shall 
have  tried  us,  and  we  are  sore 
beset  and  weary,  we  shall  come 
together — all  the  world  outside 
— and  whether  our  hearts  be 
sad  or  lightsome,  whether  the 
world  vex  us  or  we  vex  one 
another,  we  shall  stand  face 
to  face,  in  the  quiet,  in  the 
quiet,  and  look  into  each  oth- 
er's eyes,  and  laugh,  and  sob, 
and  say,  '  Yet  Love  remain- 
eth !  Yet  LOVE  remaineth  ! " 
Even  so,  my  house  of 
dreams ! 

73 


' '  Made 
beautiful 
with 
Love" 


"Yet 
Love  re- 
main- 
eth!" 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


IB 

URL      HJ15 


12.1  1939 


A     000127565     0 


